


Behind the scene

by singilu



Series: Kinktober 2018 [17]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Kinktober, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 07:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singilu/pseuds/singilu
Summary: KinktoberDay 19 - public sex





	Behind the scene

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read. Please poke me with big mistakes.  
> Check out [series notes.](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1147847)

Jongdae snags a towel from the staff right under the stairs of the main stage. He’s still heaving, having spend their entire set jumping and running around the stage, hyping the crowd. It was a big crowd, good crowd too, got even thicker as the time passed by, more people moving towards the stage for the closing act. Jongdae snickers into his water bottle. 

One day, they’ll be the closing act. 

Chanyeol and Sehun are chattering excitedly around him, talking about how good the set was, teasing Minseok about his guitar solo. Their trailer is parked close by, and they pile in, the rest of his band starting to put the instrument away, festival staff bringing another of Chanyeol’s guitars in too. Sehun runs back out almost right away, wanting to make sure the drum set is dismantled safely. 

“You sounded great,” Chanyeol pats him on the back, and Jongdae gets out of the vacant kind of head space he sometimes gets into after a concert. 

“Of course I did,” he says, and moves to the small kitchen corner, grabbing for his thermos with ginger tea. His tank top is sticking to his skin and the fake small ring piercing in his nose itches. “Blessed everyone with the best performance of the evening.” 

Chanyeol snorts, coming behind Jongdae and slinging an arm around him. “Is that so?” 

Jongdae narrows his eyes at him. “I’m sure your ears didn’t go bad just because you’re dating Baekhyun,” he says. Baekhyun has a good voice, nice color, but his range isn’t as good as Jongdae’s and he’s signed his soul to a much generic kind of music. It’s not really a rock if it doesn’t roll. Or something like that. Chanyeol just sighs, steals Jongdae’s cup. 

“We’re not dating,” he replies and takes a sip of the tea. His back vocals were pretty good tonight too, Jongdae can’t remember of anything to grill him on. “Ugh,” Chanyeol groans. “Some rockers we are, drinking tea. Where’s the booze?” Jongdae looks up at him. 

“My voice comes before booze,” he says, but bends down into the mini fridge and pulls out the whiskey. “You and Baekhyun fought again?” Chanyeol shrugs, not meeting his eyes. “Don’t pretend you’re indifferent, it doesn’t suit you.” Jongdae adds. 

“Right,” Chanyeol drawls. Then Sehun barges in. 

“Where’s my drink?” he asks, and takes the bottle from Chanyeol, drinks right from it, then passes is to Minseok who’s already managed a shower. The bottle goes around, Sehun trying to get Chanyeol to go to the main tent. 

“Pick someone up, have your way with them,” he goads. It seems he knows more than Chanyeol’s telling Jongdae, and isn’t planning on giving up. Jongdae detangles from them and changes into a dry shirt. It’s still warm outside so he doesn’t bother buttoning it. He decides his stage make up is still decent enough and leaves it. He could get out of the leather pants, but it would be way too much hassle. He comes back into the tiny common area, where Chanyeol is still dodging Sehun’s pleads for a wild night or something and grabs his wallet. 

“Gonna check out the competition,” he says, going for disinterested. It pulls a laugh from Chanyeol. 

“You’re going to check out something, alright,” he says, and Jongdae glares at him. 

“Got something to say?” 

Chanyeol tilts his head and smirks. “You should take your own advice, Jongdae,” he only says, winking. Jongdae snorts. 

“Whatever. Later.”

 

Jongdae still has his backstage pass with him, so he goes around to the back of the robust construction, avoiding the crowds. He manages to find a place up on it where he’s not in the way but from which he can see the band that’s just finished setting up and the sea of people under the stage. The air is thick with anticipation and he watches as Baekhyun of Exact steps towards the mic. 

“Make some noise,” the singer screams without any introduction and people do, a roar of sound almost deafening. On one side of him, Jongdae sees the tiny guitarists move closer to the edge, fingers poised on the strings as the drummer sets them off. 

Baekhyun looks like he belongs to a v-key band, flashy makeup, hoops and piercing in his large ears and lips. The stud in his nose is real. Yet Exact’s sound is much more tame than what Jongdae would call proper rock, public friendly, catchy maybe but generic. The crowd eats them up. If Jongdae’s taping the tip of his thick boot to the rhythm, it’s just out of a habit.

The set Exact presents is smooth, put together so that it hypes the crowd to start them off then mellows down as set up to their most famous rock ballad, only to escalate at the end once more. They’re shirts and bras on the stage, and it makes Jongdae roll his eyes. The slight guitarists in a ridiculous tank top with sleeve holes so large it shows all his pale ribs gingerly kicks several items off to the side, so that Baekhyun running around like crazy doesn’t trip. 

“Old man,” Jongdae huffs. 

They meet with this band at enough of the festivals now that Jongdae knows what their last song, even for the encore, is. The crowd under the stage is roaring, and as Jongdae moves down the stairs from the stage, the bass overrides everything else, his whole body thrumming with it. He finally gets down and leans against the wobbly stairs construction, on the other side from where he knows the staff with towels and water will stand. It takes a while before anyone comes down and it’s Baekhyun, loud as ever. He grabs a towel and notices Jongdae in the shadow. 

“You went flat half way through the third song,” Jongdae says instead of greeting. 

“At least I didn’t screech like a pterodactyl?” Baekhyun shoot back, but he’s grinning. “Looking for someone?” he asks next, swiping the towel at Jongdae. 

“Just checking up how on earth you got the headliner spot.” 

Baekhyun laughs. “Right, right.” He takes a sip of the water bottle, warms up the liquid in his mouth before gulping it down, then looks around. “Where’s the rest of the losers in your band?” he asks when Jongdae stays silent. 

“Probably in the main tent. Sehun wants to fuck the DJ, and I think he is trying to get Chanyeol to join in, or have an orgy. I’m not sure.” 

It’s funny how Baekhyun’s face twists in anger, or maybe jealousy. 

“I hope they all get an STD,” he says then walks away, directly to where the main tent is. Not even looking in the way where the band trailers are set up. Jongdae laughs. Not dating his ass. He just hopes Chanyeol doesn’t come back with a black eye. 

Slowly more people trickle down, band members and staff packing up the sound equipment from the outdoor stage for the night. Kyungsoo, the tiny drummer, and Jongin the bassist don’t even notice him, their keyboards, Yixing gives him a nod. Junmyeon climbs down the last, bowing and thanking everyone like he’s in some musical production after the last show. He looks awfully proper despite the tight jeans and that ridiculous t-shirt. The skin on his chest and neck is damp with sweat and hair clings to his neck. His voice is smooth despite him supporting Baekhyun’s vocals the past hour, melodic. 

The first time Jongdae met Junmyeon, it was in a cafe, tagging along with Chanyeol who was meeting Baekhyun on their not really a date. Baekhyun seemed to have had the same idea of bringing someone as a buffer. Junmyeon’s hair was all proper, straightened in a most business men cut ever, and he wore a sweater that Jongdae’s grandfather wouldn’t be caught in. His pants were wide and had a sharp crease. His wrists were dainty and his fingers pale around his cup. They were never properly introduced, and for the next half an hour Jongdae thought he was the band manager or something. Only when Junmyeon run his fingers through his hair, frustrated, as Jongdae was, with Chanyeol and Baekhyun flirting like teenagers, Jongdae recognized the Exact guitarist, cheekbones and high forehead and all. 

Ever since then, he couldn’t help but follow Exact even more than it was normal just because they were the two up and coming bands. All the magazines and music experts pitched them against each other and Jongdae normally wouldn’t care. But Exact wasn’t really a proper rock band, in his opinion, yet they kept beating them on the charts or getting bookings for that last spot at summer festivals, and it was infuriating. How could anyone enjoy watching a grandpa in disguise play. Well, he did play well, Jongdae didn't need Minseok’s opinion to know this, but it was just disgrace to the notion of rock. 

Junmyeon finally notices him, as he spins around, probably looking for someone else to bow to and smile sunilly at. His eyes always crinkle with it and he looks a little silly. Junmyeon is silly. Silly attractive. When he notices Jongdae, eyes looking him up and down, measuring, Jongdae feels goosebumps rising on his skin. It’s just because it’s gotten cold though. 

“Nice set,” Junmyeon says, calmly. “I was backstage getting ready and I was really impressed. People really loved you today.” 

“Well clearly. They wouldn’t have found something better around here,” he retorts. 

Junmyeon chuckles. “Aren’t you cold?” he asks next, apparently knowing not to expect the compliment returned. 

“No,” Jongdae says, curtly. Junmyeon’s hand is already pressed into his stomach though, as if checking for himself. “Must be the adrenaline,” he murmurs. Jongdae lets Junmyeon touch, eyes fixed on his fingers. 

“Your tempo was off on that last ballad,” he only mutters. Junmyeon steps closer to him.

“I’ll work on it. It’s lucky you know our songs well enough to notice.” He’s crowding Jongdae against the side of the stairs now. “What would I do without you?” 

Jongdae barks out a nervous laugh. Junmyoen’s not always this bold. It takes much longer to rile him up. But maybe it is the adrenaline. Or maybe he already has Jongdae figured all out. 

“You’d suck even more,” he gets out. Junmyeon’s pressed against him now, mouth so close to Jongdae’s own. 

“What do you want, Jongdae?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious. Jongdae bites his lips then flicks his tongue against Junmyeon’s bottom lip. Junmyeon moves his head back a little even as his hand pushes harder against Jongdae’s bare stomach. “Can you even say it?”

Jongdae groans. He grabs Junmyeon’s hip with one hand and buries the other into Junmyeon’s messed up hair. “Shut up already,” he murmurs, and pulls Junmyeon into a messy kiss. Junmyeon goes easily, smirking into it, and it’s infuriating. 

Junmyeon’s whole existence is maddening. Jongdae doesn’t get him. Doesn’t get the polite personality that gives away to strong charisma on stage, the slight body that has so much strength Junmyeon can manhandle Jongdae around like a ragged doll, the dad jokes and the highly intelligent response he gives the press which fawns over him. He doesn't get Junmyeon the rockstar in really ugly sweaters. It shouldn’t all be possible. Jongdae shouldn’t think it all makes Junmyeon perfect. 

“Move,” Junmyeon says now, and Jongdae gasps for air between their kisses. Junmyeon pushes at him and drags him then gets impatient when Jongdae stumbles. He spins Jongdae around, guiding him by the hips into the labyrinth of the stage construction, people walking on it above them turning into a dull resounding sound here. It’s dark and Jongdae trips a few times, but Junmyeon’s thin fingers hold him up securely by the hips until Junmyeon halts, and pulls Jongdae back into him. 

When Jongdae exhales and slumps against Junmyeon’s chest, Junmyeon tugs on the hem of Jongdae’s shirt. It slides down his shoulder and Junmyeon mouths at the exposed skin, nibbling his way up to Jongdae’s ear. 

“Can you keep quiet, I wonder. Or will everyone know you are fucking the lousy Exact guitarist tomorrow?” he whispers. Jongdae’s breath hitches. He pushes Junmyeon’s hand on his hip down and away and turns around, facing him again. He presses close, slotting one thigh between Junmyeon’s and pushing them both into the metal construction. 

“Planning on extra publicity?” he asks, and Junmyeon chuckles lowly, his hands making their way to Jongdae’s ass, shamelessly bringing him closer. Jongdae’s hard already and uncomfortably hot in his leather pants. Junmyeon only hums and kisses him again, hard, bruising. Jongdae whines, but it’s muted into the kiss and lost to the sound of people still milling around above them and on the grass below the stage. Someone shouts really loud for a friend, and the knowledge of how close to people, to their fans, they are goes straight to Jongdae’s cock. 

“Fuck,” he swears, arching into Junmyeon, crushing their hips together and throwing his head back. Junmyeon may be many things, but he never lets any opportunity slip, it’s why he’s such a good leader of his band, why they climb to stardom faster than Minseok’s sometimes too quiet demeanor allows. This means that his mouth is immediately mouthing down Jongdae’s jaw and neck, finding the sensitive spot on it and sucking. Jongdae’s hips thrusts forward faster and harder, breath ragged. He throws on of his arms over his face, biting his forearm as to not moan and whine too much. 

Junmyeon holds him close securely with just one of his hand on Jongdae’s lower back, his other hand caressing Jongdae’s chest and sliding down towards their pants. He unzips his own first and then struggles a bit with Jongdae’s skin tight leather ones. Jongdae would find vindictive joy in it if he didn’t want so much for his cock to be able to get out of the constraints of them. When Junmyeon bites at his collarbone in frustration, Jongdae shifts, standing straight again, and helps. 

“So useless,” he murmurs, and Junmyeon shoves his hand into Jongdae’s boxers and pulls his cock out. 

“I have other talents,” he only says. Jongdae somehow chuckles despite himself then groans, hiding his head into the crook of Junmyeon’s neck while Junmyeon aligns their cocks easily, his hand wrapping around them both. 

“Fuck?” Jongdae hisses, and Junmyeon twits his wrist. 

“So much for keeping quiet,” he mumbles, and licks the shell of Jongdae’s ear. His hand moves on their cocks, surely, and Jongdae only clings. He shoves his hands into the stupidly large sleeve holes of Junmyeon’s t-shirt and grips his ribs. His thumb finds one of Junmyeon’s nipples, rubbing at it, and Junmyeon’s fingers tighten on their cocks. He’s almost silent, only tiny mewls and huffs coming out of his mouth, tickling Jongdae’s hair. 

Jongdae tries to stay quiet too, busies his mouth and tongue on the salty skin of Junmyeon’s shoulder and collarbone and pushes his hips up into Junmyeon’s hand. The head of his cock slides against Junmyoen’s, the drag of it delicious,. Jongdae’s so close. It feels so good.

On the stage, something drops to the deck floor with a loud thud and someone swears, right above them. Jongdae tenses, reminded of their surroundings, and the sock of it is enough to make him come, shuddering and fighting hard not to moan out loud. Junmyeon shifts, only keeps his hand on Jongdae’s cock, tugging at him until Jongdae squirms and whines really loud, his cock too sensitive now. 

“Quiet,” Junmyeon hisses, and Jongdae pinches his nipple in retaliation. Junmyeon’s hips jerk forward at that, and he’s still so hard. Jongdae gulps at the way his cock feels hot and sticky against his own stomach. He looks down to maybe watch Junmyeon pull himself off, but it’s too dark here to see properly. He figures he doesn’t have another choice. 

He sinks down on his knees, legs a bit of jello anyway and bats Junmyeon’s hand from his cock. 

“Fuck” Junmyeon hisses, still in his quiet voice, and Jongdae wraps his hand around his cock and noses up the length of it. Junmyeon’s cock is leaking, and that might be a bit of Jongdae on the tip of his own tongue too. Jongdae wants to whine again at the thought, and it’s like Junmyeon _knows_ because he grabs a handful of Jongdae’s hair and pushes his cock into Jongdae’s mouth. 

Jongdae does let out a groan, but it’s muffled, and Junmyeon’s hips thrusts forward, just a little. It’s enough for Jongdae to take over, bobbing his head and moving his hand to meet his mouth half way. Junmyeon’s zipper scratches over Jongdae’s chin and Junmyeon’s thigh start to quiver then tenses where Jongdae has one hand on it for support. 

The hand in Jongdae’s hair tries to pull him away, but Jongdae only goes enough so he's able to suck at the crown of Junmyeon’s cock. Junmyeon comes, with a string of curses on his tongue, and somehow it makes Jongdae proud. That it’s for him, perfect Junmyeon falling apart, getting this filthy. He licks Junmyeon’s cock clean, and then sits back at his knees, his whole body aching now that he’s come. He’s suddenly so very tired. Junmyeon’s hand moves to caress his cheek, thumb rubbing his bottom lip as they breathe raggedly, somehow in sync. 

“One day,” Junmyeon says in a hushed voice, sounding soft and fond. “We’ll find a bed for this.”. Jongdae feels like it’s not what he’s wanted to say but for now that sounds good enough. 

“Are you going to let me fuck you then?” he asks. Junmyeon pushes his thumb into Jongdae’s mouth them rubs his jaw with it. 

“Only if you tell me how good it feels, for once,” he says. Jongdae’s stomach clenches. He scrambles to stand up, suddenly panicked. Junmyeon actually helps him, his hands now gently on his hips. 

“It always feels good with you,” he says, quickly, because fuck why else would they always end up pressed against some hard surface, a van, some wall or on the ground behind the trailers. 

“And you hate it?” Junmyeon adds, and Jongdae’s not sure he’s joking or not. 

“I …” he slumps again Junmyeon, suddenly cold in the midnight air. The sounds around them slowly quiet, the stage almost packed up and the festival goers either finding their own tents to sleep or moving into the main tent with the DJ, or at least to flock around it. “Far from it,” Jongdae finally gets out. Junmyeon wraps his arms around him, linking his own hands behind Jongdae’s back. 

“Good then. I’m glad it’s just our music you have complaints about,” he chuckles, sounding almost relieved. 

“Junmyeon,” Jongdae says, still pressed into that sweaty flimsy t-shirt, picking at a thread on the bottom of it. “I’m forever a whiner; on stage, clearly in bed, and in everything.” 

Junmyeon’s chest rumbles and shakes with his laughter. “Got it,” he gets out, burying his nose into Jongdae’s hair. They’re probably too sweaty and disgusting like this, but Jongdae doesn’t want to move. “It’s good then. I was starting to think I’ll have to give up my sweater collection if I wanted to woo you.” 

Jongdae groans. Junmyeon’s such an old soul. Who even uses a word like woo these days. But his embrace is warm, his voice soothing, and Jongdae figures it won’t be long before he can’t hide it anymore that he thinks Junmyeon’s kind of really great. It’s probably a good thing, summer festival season is ending and Jongdae doesn't want to spend the long winter without him. 

“I still want to burn like half of them,” he tells Junmyeon instead, the other laughing without a care now. Jongdae hopes to snuggle against the other, more acceptable, half of the said sweater collection. Maybe he’ll manages to even steal one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter @singilus


End file.
